


Oh Captain, My Captain

by candesgirl



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candesgirl/pseuds/candesgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request was for Christopher Pike/You, with the line "Pike backs you up against a wall". OP also wanted it to be hot, hard and up against a wall, with bonus points for a second round on the bed. That's exactly what this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Captain, My Captain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonlit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlit/gifts).



Captain Christopher Pike backs you up against the wall, stalking you like prey until you are pinned and flush against his body, every inch of you charged by the friction and heat of his skin. His presence is commanding, as always, and you don’t think to disobey as he raises your hands over your head and pins your wrists, one strong hand holding them in place while the other trails languidly down your body to the hem of your standard issue skirt. 

His mouth descends on yours, hunger evident in the way he devours you, nipping and sucking your lips until they are bruised, sliding his velvety tongue against yours like he’s memorizing your taste or the shape of your mouth. He pulls away, ragged breath coming out in what sounds like a growl as his fingers glide between your thighs and over damp, warm cotton. He looks at you then, fierce as he teases you, as he pushes aside thin fabric and slides thick fingers into you, telling you how wet you are for him as if you didn’t know, as if you hadn’t been since you first laid eyes on him sprawled wide legged in that captain’s chair that suits him so well.

You bite your lip; stifle the stilted breath that he drags from you with skilled strokes, a sure hand bringing you quickly to the brink and then you can no longer keep it in, not when he is sinking to his knees in front of you, nudging up into you, demanding noise from you not with words but with a greedy tongue. You bring your arms down finally, pull at the starched gold fabric spread taut across his shoulders, become bolder as you quietly ask him to look at you and he fixes you with that sure stare, that one you’ve seen on the bridge that says this ship is his, that now says this body is his, to do with as he pleases. Your hands fist in his hair, softer than you imagined, and he tells you to come, come for him and like a good Starfleet cadet you do what you’re told, coming so hard he has to dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from sliding down to the floor. 

He moves back up your body, all hard angles and heated skin as he grinds against you, slips his tongue against yours, tells you how incredible you taste, how amazing you smell, how bad he wants to fuck you, you dirty little ensign. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, his hands are on your ass and he carries you the few short steps to his bed, throws you down on it, tells you to lose the uniform and keep the boots as he slips his own standard issue black trousers down over his ass and you get your first glimpse of his stiff, impressive cock. He hovers over you on the bed, uniform still on because he knows you get off on the power trip, knows you watch him as he moves easily about the bridge.

He slides into your warm, wet heat slowly at first, filthy words whispered out of his mouth, out of yours until he picks up the pace and you buck up against him, until he flips you over and drags you up to all fours, fucks you deep and hard, his fingers stroking you in time to his thrusts, until you come again, shortly before he leans over and bites your shoulder as he comes, thrusting wildly, erratically until he collapses on top of you. You catch your breath as he rolls off of you; runs his fingers over your back, over the curve of your hips as he whispers, asking you ‘what’s your name, ensign?’


End file.
